


My Mark

by Jetti



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandonment, Abuse, Backstory, Character Death, Dark, Drama, Gen, H - Freeform, Loneliness, POV First Person, Present Tense, Psychological Trauma, Stand Alone, Suicide, Tragedy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetti/pseuds/Jetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man, wandering through a city of familiar strangers, contemplates his place in the world, wanting to be remembered-- wanting to make an impact. Through views into his past, his thoughts and behaviors are explained. The question of what brought him to this run-down building is answered, and it isn't a pleasant one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Other possible titles: “All That I Have To Show” “See Beyond Seeing” “Epiphany” “Drastic” “Here to Stay” “No Longer a Stranger” “To be Seen” “A Display of the World’s Neglect” “To become a Legend” “Ethereal Realism” “Transcending your Clouded Vision” “Gaining Acceptance” “Not Another Mysterious Stranger” “Seen and Remembered” “Recognition” “Presence of Mind” “Purposeful” “Resolute” “A New Kind of Famous”
> 
> As you can see, I'm not the best with titles, so I write down whatever pops into my head and choose from there. A few friends of mine found "My Mark" to be the most fitting and I trust their judgement.

I walk around in this strange city. I know no one and no one knows me; It’s a mutual relationship. All I see are nameless faces that become a blur of anonymity and apathy. I probably look the same to them, just another person walking the planet. I have no connection to them, so why should they even bother to even see me, let alone get to know me? At the same time, we are all connected to each other. I can see it, like invisible strings that shoot out of our bodies and attach to others. We cannot help but affect each other, be it our co-workers, parents, church-goers, neighbors or just another stranger walking down the street. Even though we share this connection, it doesn’t mean anything.

I've learned that being human doesn’t grant you special treatment.

No one ever does anything selflessly. There is always something to be gained by what people do. Otherwise, why waste the energy? Sure, people may say they have performed a selfless deed, but did they really? Although there may not be a tangible item in return, they feel good about themselves and can brag to others of their “selfless deed” and gain praise. See? There is always some payout in the end of every single human thought that leads to action.

That is why I am walking here tonight.

I want to see if my presence can change someone’s life. I hardly think it is possible, but my life has never really amounted to anything. I am at a loss of what else to do. Failure after failure with nothing to show. There is no point in breathing if I just become a waste of space on this earth. At the glimmering thought of success, I find myself becoming excited--my heart picking up speed in my chest, almost wanting to burst out in the most grotesque way. I would let it if I could. Now that would be something to tell. I can read the cheesy headlines now, making puns of having too much love to contain myself or some other crap. The list could go on and on. I could make a name for myself. Mom would finally be proud after my lifetime of disappointments. I tried so hard for years to be the son she wanted me to be, to become who she expected her son to be. All I got in return for my efforts was a cold and distant look from the woman who gave me life. After a while, I tried being someone else, someone she would love and approve of. That didn’t work.

I guess I’m not good at being another person, but I’m not good at being me either. What other choice do I have?

Among this crowd, I am also a nobody. It isn’t as bothersome as you might think. A majority of people here are nobodies to someone else. It is strange that we can live so closely together and yet not know or care about those near us. Seeing these people, but really not--more like looking through them, as if they do not exist just because you do not acknowledge them. It is like a cruel game.

You do not exist unless someone notices you, sees you, tells you that they can see you.

We rely so heavily on others, it is a surprise that we pretend that we don’t, as if saying it out loud will make others disappear, leaving you alone. But I’m already alone. I walk and walk and walk. I could walk until my feet bled and filled my boots and still not be noticed. Some people might enjoy that idea, not being in the spotlight and having the ability to travel, observing but not being seen. It may be nice in theory, but having it as a reality around the clock is much less appealing.

The sun has finally set and I have found my place.

My heart begins to race again in anticipation. If I cannot leave a lasting influence with anyone I know or anyone I don’t know while alive, what I am about to do is the next best thing. I calm myself down, not wanting to rush through the highpoint of my life. Isn’t it funny how we are so eager to do things that give us pleasure even though it still appears to end swiftly; Yet want to get unpleasant tasks done as quickly as possible, but it drags on? They take the same amount of time, but the feeling of time is experienced differently, depending on what we are doing.

Right now, I take my time.

One step at a time with a slight pause. This building has been abandoned for I don’t know how long. There’s dust and boarded up windows. Maybe it was a halfway house, or a number of apartments at some point. Maybe now this is a meeting place for drug deals or prostitution. I don’t know what it was or was used for, but now, it will be part of what makes me famous. Each wooden step creaks under my weight. A noise for when I apply pressure and another when my foot leaves the step for the next one. I can feel myself perspiring a bit, my whole body feels so warm despite the frigid temperature. I think back to how I came up with this idea.

My surefire way to leave my mark on the world.

It happened when I was getting assaulted by a group of men in an alley. I gave them my money, thinking it would make them leave me alone, but I was wrong. Besides the benefit of cash, they apparently enjoyed inflicting pain on another person. They held me down while I was being kicked, punched, stomped, spat on, and stabbed. One of them made off with a chunk of my hair, roots and all. I called for help, knowing someone would hear me. I saw people walking past the opening of the alley, going on their daily commute. Some looked at what was happening, but their strides never faltered. Others did not even give me a passing glance, my broken hand shaking towards them, reaching out. They probably thought I deserved getting roughed up or they were thanking God it wasn’t happening to them. There was no need to get involved. People get hurt all the time. Why put yourself in harm’s way when you did nothing wrong? And for who, a stranger? You didn’t even know the person. There was no need to pry into other people’s business like that. God forbid you get injured while helping someone reaching out to you. A young woman in passing that ignored my outstretched hand had a front row seat of me getting a few teeth kicked out of my mouth with a flourish of blood.

Very dramatic.

At some point, a blow to the head finally knocked me unconscious. I woke up some indeterminable amount of time later, very cold. My jacket and shoes were taken. I tried to curl in on myself for warmth, but any movement I made caused me enormous pain. My entire body felt broken. All I could do was lay there and feel. It was then that a thought occurred to me. My life would amount to nothing if I continued on as I did. I would just be me, making the same mistakes and disappointing those few who gave me any little attention. It would continue on until I died an old man; But then, I realized that I had control of my own life.

I could do something, the biggest, most spectacular thing with my life, and this is it.

I have almost reached the final flight of stairs. The wallpaper is torn, revealing sheetrock, some parts of the wall covered with holes. Only a few more steps until the door. Besides the physiological responses due to the situation, my mind is swirling. I have never felt like this. This. This is something that I know for certain will go right, as planned. It feels like my whole life has been leading up to this one moment, this event that will change it all.

I feel sorry for people who have never felt the pinnacle that I am right now.

The door is broken off the top hinge, the wood old and partially eaten away. It is lighter than I expected, only taking a small amount of force to move.

Here it is, the roof.

I take a look around at the night sky, only lights from airplanes and satellites visible, no stars. The illumination of the city causes a pollution in its own special way. I climb up on the ledge and soak in everything, everything I have seen and felt today, the people I have passed in the street, memories of my mother and her unchanging gaze, the men who assaulted me, and those that allowed it to proceed. I close my eyes and swear I can feel everyone’s heart beat in time with my own.

It’s exhilarating.

I have never felt so alive and connected with these people that look right through me. That will change shortly. I will not be another invisible entity walking the streets. No, they will all finally see me. I will amount to something. I will be known, famous even. Everyone in this city will hear of what happened here tonight, the knowledge making my existence all the greater.

This is it, I cannot wait any longer.

I take the final step forward and off of the ledge. The force of my free fall makes me feel weightless, like I am flying. My hair and clothing is whipping around me. My body is humming with energy, my blood pumping through my veins, and an excitement bubbling in my stomach.

They are going to see me for the first time soon, and I am going to make an unforgettable entrance.

I hope my blood spatters on the sidewalk in a pretty design. From the height of the building, it should stretch very far, but that is only an estimation. Only these people are going to know for sure because by then, I’ll already be gone.

This is my mark on the world, mom, I know you’ll be very proud.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave comments and constructive criticism. This is my first narrative, and although I am proud of it, I would like to know where I can improve.


End file.
